


But Youth Of Course

by pauraque



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: pornish_pixies, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-26
Updated: 2003-12-26
Packaged: 2017-10-28 05:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauraque/pseuds/pauraque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tell me what you imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Youth Of Course

**Author's Note:**

> For the Fantasia challenge at Pornish Pixies, which was to write a fic focusing on a character's fantasy.

Do you want to know what I imagined?

He asks me to stay after class, is how it starts off. For a second I get a sinking feeling because I'm afraid I've got detention, but then I turn and he's standing there, leaning against his desk and giving me one of those smiles that you can only see in his eyes.

I come up to him. 'Yes, Professor Lupin?'

'I just wanted to tell you how well you did today,' he says, and his eyes are soft yellow-hazel, and he smells all sort of cool and salt-water, like he's been up to his elbows in the grindylow tank. 'You should know you're getting one of the highest marks in the class, Neville.' His voice goes all soft and hoarse, but the smile I can barely see bursts through in every word. 'That's something to be proud of.'

I know I'm going red but it feels so good, overflowing-good somewhere down in my stomach. He's beautiful and close and *proud* of me, and I almost can't stand it, and I'm going hoarse too. 'Thank you, sir...'

I don't know who moves first, but we're leaning closer together, and he puts his hands on my waist, and suddenly he lifts me up— I'm surprised, I'm clutching the sleeves of his robes— and he sits me up on the edge of his desk, and kisses me. I'm still holding onto him, and I'm kissing back— his skin is warm and rough like he needs a shave, and his mouth's all soft like velvet, just kissing me like I'm the thing he loves most.

He's holding me tighter and my legs are on either side of him dangling off the desk, I'm holding his hips between my knees. Anybody could walk in, the door's unlocked and the window's even open, sun all golden shining in, but I don't care because if anybody looked, the only thing they'd see is the way we love each other. I'm not embarrassed— I feel like I'll never be embarrassed again.

And I want him now, I really want him, and he gets down on his knees. He opens up my trousers and he says— he says my cock is beautiful, and it's exciting because he's a _teacher_ and he's not meant to use words like that. And then his fingers, thin and soft-tipped stroking up and down. 'Beautiful,' he says, the warm smile in his eyes brimming up almost like tears.

I want him to do it, and he does. His tongue— his mouth— so good I can't stand it, I'm up on the desk and there's nothing to hold on to. My legs are over his shoulders and crossed over his back, and I put my hand back to reach for something and there's just feathers and cool glass.

I'm saying, 'Yes.' I'm saying, 'Yes, it's so good...'

His hands are rubbing my hips, and he's swallowing, and oh the way his tongue slides and pushes against the underside— against my— I put my hand back again and hit the thick blotter paper and I think I've got ink on my hands but I don't care, I don't care because he's so good, so good. I know I'm going to come and I don't want it to end, but it's so good I can't get the words out, everything I try to say just comes out yes, yes, it's good, don't stop, I love you, yes, it's good. And I'm coming then, I'm coming in his beautiful mouth with my hands hanging onto his head, and getting black ink smeared all down his beautiful, beautiful hair.

And when I'm finished he stands up, and he hugs me and kisses me. And he's not just smiling with his eyes.

*

Neville opened his eyes. Harry was looking at him spellbound, lips flushed red and slightly parted.

'That was— wow,' Harry breathed. 'You should write this stuff down, Neville, you could make a fortune.'

Neville chuckled, reddening and glancing away. 'No, I couldn't do that. It's just silly stuff anyway, imaginary...'

'Silly isn't the word I'd use,' Harry said, edging closer under the bedclothes— he was hard.

Neville stroked his fingers over Harry's hip, savouring the feeling of warm, real skin, not imaginary. 'But I had that fantasy for years. And it's so stupid, having a crush on your teacher...'

'Don't feel bad. I had a crush on my godfather.'

Neville's eyes widened. 'Did you?'

Harry gave a small grin. 'Yeah.' He pressed up close against him; his voice lowered playfully. 'Do you want to know what I imagined?'

Neville slowly smiled, and slid his arm around Harry's waist. 'Yeah. Tell me?'

Harry kissed him. 'Okay,' he whispered against his mouth. 'It starts like this.'


End file.
